Fellatioklok
by Citizenjess
Summary: Charles follows up with the guys about a standing request. Yes, that one. Spoilers through the season three premiere.


I was awestruck by the season two finale of "Metalocalypse", and decided that this had to be written. Spoilers for the season three premiere.

Summary: Charles follows up with the guys about a long-standing request. Yes, that one. Rated PG-13.

* * *

**Fellatioklok**  


* * *

They're happy that Charles is back, mostly because he pays the bills and has people on hand to clean up after Murderface decides to have another one-man bukkake-shit party in the largest living room at Mordhaus. Basically, Charles keeps Dethklok running like a well-lubed machine, leaving its members to act like the clueless, barely functioning man-children that they've collectively grown into.

They're also happy that Charles is back because he's Charles, looking grimly amused when they say and do asinine things and then letting them think they've won whatever argument they've just made to him. Still, they're not allowed to express this sentiment, because anything beyond a harshly whispered, "You've been drinking a lot lately" is way too fucking gay. Having feelings isn't metal, after all. So even though Charles would probably just accept it if Toki impulsively hugged him, or if Pickles or Nathan had to duck their heads and concoct a quick excuse for why their eyes were teary, nobody wants to be That Guy, so nobody is. It's easiest for everyone that way.

Charles sticks around after their fucking ridiculously expensive concert and sticking it to the record execs who have been trying to scam them out of their hard-earned (well, kind of) money. He doesn't eat anything when they sit down to a late dinner, but the kitchen has been restocked with food in the short span of time between their stage performance and now, and the guys are famished. Nobody knows quite how to express their appreciation, so nobody does. Charles also remains mysteriously mum about his death experience, nor is he one for making small talk. For several minutes, Mordhaus' dining room is filled with nothing but the sounds of chewing and food being shuffled around on plates.

Eventually, Nathan catches Charles glancing at him. Nathan swallows the mouthful of food he's working on, a bit pre-emptively. His throat is sore from singing, and he winces. "What?" he says gruffly.

Charles is expressionless. "Nothing," he replies swiftly, and then clears his throat. Time to get down to business, the noise seems to say - though to be fair, Charles really isn't ever not about business. "So just before I disappeared, I was following up on some requests you all made regarding a yoga instructor," he begins.

Skwisgaar makes a gagging sound. Toki gasps. Murderface pauses with a forkful of meat halfway to his lips. Pickles makes an unintelligible noise, and Nathan doesn't say anything, but continues staring hard at their manager-lawyer. Nathan's a high school drop-out, but he's not too stupid to realize when Charles knows something he doesn't. "Yeah," he finally answers when none of the other guys do - pussies, Nathan thinks. "So what?"

Charles presses on in the same vein. "None of you would explain why you wanted spiritual guidance, which I thought probably meant that you didn't. I also recall having to contact the in-house chiropractors and also the Mordhaus nutritionist for some B-12 supplements-"

"It's not my faults, we justs wanted to knows what it felt likes!" Toki gasps suddenly. He points vehemently at Skwisgaar. "He starteds it!"

"I did nots," Skwisgaar growls, standing up quickly, gripping his ever-present guitar by the neck as he towers over Toki. For added ambiance, Murderface tosses his plate, still filled with food onto the floor. Immediately, two Klokateers appear, one to clean up the mess, and another to bring and fill another plate. Once they've left again, Charles continues, used to being interrupted and having to sift through half-truths.

"Given the sore backs, the, ahem, positions you were all found in, and the curious request for a yoga instructor, I can only assume that you all were ... attempting to self-fellate." To his credit, Charles still manages to exude a Gandhi-like state of calm. He folds his hands neatly in front of him. "Is this the case?"

Nobody can look at him. Finally, Pickles offers in a meek, shaky Wisconsin drawl, "Wehl, you hahve to understahnd, we were reahlly druhnk ..."

"Ja, and wes all haves really big dicks, sos it seemed likes it would be easys ..." Skwisgaar chimes in.

"And some jag-off on the Internet already proved that it could be done ..." Murderface adds.

"And it was Skwisgaar's ideas-"

"Shut up, Toki!"

"Yeah, so we, uh, we thought we'd try it," Nathan mumbles. He chances a glance at Charles, who remains as impassive as ever. He looks down again, his face burning. "But it never happened," he adds quickly. "So nobody's a gay jag-off."

"Juscht keep telling yourschelf that," Murderface smirks.

Pickles coughs. "Wehl, actually ..." he interjects. "I, ah, I did it. Just before Mordhaus was attacked." He points to Skwisgaar. "I tohld Skwisgaahr about it jest b'fore we, ah, ahlmost died." Toki and Murderface gape. Nathan just looks vaguely annoyed.

Skwisgaar nods and fingers his guitar. "Ja, he tells me," he affirms. "Pickles suckeds his own dicks."

Murderface crosses his arms over his chest. "So what," he spits, "you're like, gay now?"

"It's cools, Toki's already gays."

"He~ey!"

"He like, uses ladies' tampons and everythings."

"You knows there were extenuatings circumstances, Skwisga-"

"Schut up, you guys," Murderface orders. He points at Pickles. "Anschwer the question."

Everyone is silent anew. Finally, Pickles shrugs. "Man, I don't care what you cahll it," he grins, picking up the nearest bottle of booze in front of his person and waving it in the air in a self-toast. "It was ahwesome!"

Murderface harrumphs. Tentatively, Skwisgaar asks, "Sos you thinks you can do it agains?"

Pickles seems to consider this seriously. "I don't know," he admits. "I mean, my back hurt pretty bahd after the first time."

Charles clears his throat for the second time that evening. "I can do it," he offers plainly.

Nathan gapes. "What? No way," he says accusingly. He blinks. "Really?"

Charles shrugs. "Yes. I'm trained in four different types of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. I also work out twice a day, seven days a week with three different personal trainers. It requires some flexibility, but it can be done."

Everyone appears to process this some more. "Sos you are sayings that you can sucks your own cocks?" Skwisgaar clarifies.

Charles pauses. "Yes," he responds. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"Can you teaches us?!" Toki exclaims. He withers a bit under glares from his bandmates, namely Skwisgaar and Murderface. "Oh, screws you alls," he glares back. "It's okays to be exciteds about stuff once in a whiles."

More silence. Finally, Pickles shrugs. "I'm in," he proffers.

"Me, too," Skwisgaar adds quickly.

"Me three," Toki chirps. Skwisgaar looks as if he wants to say something in response, but Toki puts his hand up. "I'm not copiesing yous, I saids it first."

Murderface's arms remain tightly coiled in front of his person. "I guess ... I'm in," he lisps with a put-upon sigh.

"Hmmm," Nathan grunts. He looks at his bandmates, and then at Charles. "I think this is the gayest we've ever gotten," he mutters.

Charles pauses in his response to make a mental note about one of the many things he has to do after dinner to ensure that Dethklok remains the most popular metal band in the world. "Yes," he finally answers. "Yes, I think it is."


End file.
